MI Your UNCLE
by Solo's Girl
Summary: The formation of UNCLE. Part of the UNCLE Origins series. The first story of Waverly and Del Floria's years as UNCLEs first Dream Team. The search is on for the traitor and the new recuites are tested. Final Chapter added
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note**: This story is part of a new series on the MFU Fanfiction home called **UNCLE Origins**. I have touched on Waverly and Del Floria's early days as UNCLE agents in other stories. This series will be specifically their stories starting with the formation of UNCLE as an independent branch of Britian's famed MI5 (hence the title!). More stories of UNCLE's first Dream Team will follow as we find that the agents of today are not that much different from the agents of yesteryear.

"**Out of the Frying-pan."**

**London, England**

**November 1, 1930**

British Military Intelligence division five, MI5 as it is more commonly known, was started around 1914 during rumors of impending war with Germany. The special selective branch was set up as a counter-espionage unit to seek out and confirm secret enemy activities. Special Agents highly train in combat, intelligence, diplomacy and other skills went out every day, laying their lives on the line if they could find out that one vital piece of information that would keep their county safe and secure.

Many of the young brave men were enlisted thru their exceptional talents in uniform, others by their pure academic achievements. Some had connections, others by sheer luck. But, they all had one common goal in their hearts and minds, to protect and serve their beloved England.

It was getting late. Cold, hinting at rain. A soft misty fog hung in the air giving the dimly lit street an ambiance of both romance and intrigue. There was very little traffic this time of the evening. Save the one rickety bus that was slowly lumbering along the cobblestone pavement. The wheels squealed loudly as it came to a halt.

Two young men wearing heavy woolen Army uniforms stepped down from the bus, dropping their duffle-bags with a thud to the pavement. The taller of the two leaned back and gave a beautiful young woman a soft and sultry kiss. He felt her fingers gently brush against his cheek and the kiss intensified.

"I do love a bloke in uniform," she cooed, as her fingers moved to the collar of his jacket, "And out." She added in a whisper, giving his ear a nip.

He smiled. She looked into his steel grey eyes; her hand brushing his cheek then one finger gently brushed across his mustache.

They were both nearly thrown onto the stairs as the bus started to pull away. He jumped back onto the pavement and they watched one another as the vehicle disappeared around the corner.

His friend stood patiently, watching the scene play out. He picked up his own bag and slung it over his shoulder as the taller walked back to retrieve his own.

"I'm surprised you didn't give her the name of the hotel," the shorter said with a coy smile.

His friend shook his head and slung his bag over his shoulder. He pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his mouth to remove the traces of her lipstick

"Her!...Oh no…You have a lot to learn my friend.." he nodded towards the rapidly disappearing bus, "Professional…Don't deal with professionals…Too much of a health risk," the older man said giving his friend a quirky grin.

They were quite an odd pair these two. The older man was tall, slender in build with a slight clef in his chin. He had recently grown a mustache that he kept neatly trimmed and it gave him a very dashing gentlemanly look. He had an air of sophistication about him especially in the dark brown service uniform. He was the adoration of nearly every woman he met.

His best friend was a head shorter, almost two years younger and slightly on the stocky side. But it was all muscle. He looked as if he couldn't run an entire block without getting winded, but in truth he was much more agile than but just as powerful as his buddy. At the age of only twenty-eight he had started to lose his hair, while his friend's still remained thick, full and dark chocolate brown.

"We better find the hotel and check in," Willie said as they made their way up the sidewalk.

"Buck up Willie," Alex said giving him a gentle push to the shoulder, "Maybe someday some dainty dally will fall for you."

"Not as long as you're around," his friend said smiling.

It was nearly four blocks to the hotel, and they made it just as it started to rain. Standing across the road they made a few minor observations of the building. Old, but nor derelict, It had a slightly musty smell even from the outside. The few lighted windows were dim and tinted a yellowish brown. Despite the cold and the rain that was beginning to fall, the front door stood open and the same yellow-brown light came forth as a welcome to the weary travelers.

Alex took a long deep breath. The smell of well seasoned wood permeated his senses. He glanced towards the roof of the four storied building and saw smoke coming from the chimney, confirming his guess of a fire.

The two men grabbed their bags, their hands tightening the collars of their coats and made a dash across the street. Up the small stone steps and in the doorway they went, side by side, finding themselves wedged in the door frame together. Neither was willing to back down so they both pushed in until they managed at last to pop thru the frame.

Both shook the little bit of water from their uniforms and removed their berets, tucking them in their belts.

The lobby was sparsely decorated but still cozy. Small, intimate just as the older liked. The tinny sound of a Victrola playing came from the far corner, the music box hidden behind a few large, slightly wilted, potted palms. The dark wood paneling in the room kept the heat and light locked in. A well worn Persian rug on the floor had seen better days, but the beautiful reds, yellows and blues still shone in places, paying homage to the artisan who created it. Prints of the Royal family adorned the walls.

The smells of dinner cooking wafted across the lobby. Sweetbreads, steak, bangers and mash, smoked salmon. They could hear several of the dinner guest already in the small dining area located somewhere down the hall behind the front desk. A rather stout man in his mid-sixties walked out of the office to the desk. He smiled and saluted the two uniformed men. They returned the salute.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

"Yes..You should have a reservation for us," Willie said, "Either under the name William Del Floria or Alexander Waverly."

The counter clerk looked at his ledger. He gave a nod.

"Two adjoining…Rooms 301 and 303…" he pointed towards the stairs, "Up, right, back corner…the WC is at the left end of the hall. Quite a queue first thing in the mornings 'round eight…No-smoking in the rooms' gentlemen…only down here."

The two men signed the ledger and picked up their bags. They were turning to leave when a young girl about seventeen came out of the back room and approached the man behind the desk. Alex felt his upper lip twitch as he watched her.

"Will our guest be eating in their rooms or in the dining area?" she asked her voice still very innocent.

"I'll be in my room," Alex said smiling, "If it's not too much trouble."

The girl tried to hide her blush.

"No trouble at all, sir," she said, "What's your fancy?"

Willie bit down on his lip. He thought to himself, if Alex says Bangers I'm going to lose it.

"I'll leave that to you," Alex said smiling, "Will, what about you?"

"I'm going to skip tonight," Willie said, "I'm zonked..How's bout a knock up at six-thirty am."

Alexander fought to hold back his smile.

"Very good," the man at the counter said, "And you sir."

"Not for me," Alex gave his chest a firm pat with the palm of his hand, "Built in alarm."

The two men took their bags and went to their rooms. They were standing in the hallway.

"You better hope it goes off on time..."

Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend. The corner of his lip curled in a crooked grin.

"Your built in alarm….You knew what I meant…Look Alex, this is a great opportunity for us, don't throw a spanner in the works."

Alex laughed and shook his head. He reached over the small space between them and gave his buddy a friendly pat on the cheek.

"You can drop the British colloquialism my friend," he said smiling, "You Americans…You always think speaking English is so easy..."

Both men laughed, said their respective good nights and then went into their rooms.

Squeak, squeak, squeak. Bill's eyes fluttered open and he made a heavy yawn. Rolling over to get comfortable he heard the sound again, several squeaks in rapid succession. He sat up, resting on his elbow and rubbed his hand over his head.

It was still dark outside. He reached over and started to click on the light-switch when he saw a faint glow coming from the base of the adjoining door. The young man turned his head and listened quietly. A blush crossed his face as he heard the various sounds emanating from the other room. Then the light went out.

For a few moments it was deathly quiet, then he heard a girl giggle, whispers, the main hallway door open and close again and the sounds of tiny feet rushing down the hallway. A few more moments passed and the sounds of light contented snoring could be heard in the other room. He fell back in his own bed and covered his head with the pillow.

Bill dragged himself out of bed and down to the lavatory to clean up. A hot bath, shave and into his uniform. He was surprised to see Alex already waiting for him at the stair landing. The older looked at his watch, and then gave it a tap. He smiled at his friend.

"Oh shut up," Bill said, huffing past him, throwing his night clothes into the room.

They went down for breakfast. The young hotel girl walked over and took their order. She smiled and blushed as she tried desperately to avoid eye-contact with either of them, especially Alexander. She nodded and went to the kitchen.

"So…..The one from the bus after all…or the one from the desk?" Willie asked.

The girl returned with their plates. William looked at his breakfast and took a deep breath. It all smelled wonderful. Then he glanced over at his friend's plate. Stacked with what amounted to almost three times the normal portion, Bill rested his elbow on the table edge, leaning his head against his hand and poked at his plate.

Alex smiled and lowered his eyes to his plate. He tried desperately to hide his laughter. Having a mouthful of food was his excuse not to answer and he chewed slowly and deliberately. Waverly took a sip of his coffee.

"Answered that question…" Bill said shoving a handful of bacon in his mouth.

Alexander began to choke on his food. The young girl suddenly appeared from the kitchen and quickly grabbed him. She gave Alex several hard hits between the shoulder blades and he began to breath normally again. She picked up his plate.

"Let me get you a new plate," she sighed.

Alex took her hand and gave it a soft kiss on the top.

"That won't be necessary, thank you," he said.

Alex saw his partner stand quickly and at ridged attention. He turned to see the Colonel Dickering standing in the doorway of the dining area. He made it to his feet, at attention and both men flashed a salute as the higher ranking officer came closer.

The Colonel returned their salute.

"Lieutenant Waverly, Ensign Del Floria, pleasure to met you both. If you've finished your breakfast…"

"Yes sir," Alex said, "We have."

All three men turned and walked out of the room. Thru the lobby and out the front door to a waiting car they went with great speed trying not to draw attention to themselves. The car pulled out as the three sat quietly in the back.

Alexander watched as the car zigzagged its way thru the London streets. He knew the city almost as well as a cab driver but he had to admit to himself that he as lost. The drive to headquarters had always been fairly straightforward and short. Where-ever they were going the driver was going around their elbows to get to their thumbs.

He looked over at Colonel Dickering. The man's expression told him something must have happened to cause this new route to headquarters.

Finally after nearly forty-five minutes and a drive that had nearly made them both nauseous, Alexander and William found themselves stopped outside of rather unassuming looking building. A few moments passed and the car moved into an alleyway between the building and the one next to it.

A light scrapping sound drew the two younger men's attention. They turned and looked back out the car window. A large stone wall had suddenly slid into place across the alley. They looked at one another and then at the man in the car with them.

"That's new," Alexander said low.

The statement only acknowledged with a nod from the Colonel.

The driver opened the door and all three men stepped out. Up the four granite steps, they walked through a large wood and iron door into the marble hallway. They both felt a surge of energy shoot thru them.

Dickering looked at Del Floria's expressions. He couldn't help but crack a slight smile. Alexander saw his friend's expression as well. He gave Bill a slap on the shoulder.

"Welcome to MI5, William," Alexander said.

Immediately they were surrounded, searched and once cleared led down to an area they could change their clothes.

Alexander walked over to the tall wooden cupboard and opened the door with his name on it. His suite hung neatly on the peg, pressed and ready. He quickly changed from the uniform to his regular clothes.

The suit supplied for Bill was not exactly the right fit but for the moment it would do. Anything was better than the army uniforms they had been wearing. They were wool, they itched and they were excessively hot. But the uniforms were just for deception.

Alexander took a deep breath, as though he were trying to breath in his surroundings. Bill soaked in every detail as they were led down another long marbled hallway to the main conference room. Several other agents passed them, giving them only light nods of acknowledgement but no-one said anything.

Bill saw his friend puff up a bit, then noticed two young women sitting behind a window at the switchboards in the radio room watching them. He shook his head and cleared his throat; bringing Alex back to the real world.

"This way gentlemen," Dickering said, motioning them into a room.

They walked in and found themselves with about twenty other young men all around the same age. They each took a place at the long tables. In front of each man was a stack of folders and several writing implements.

Dickering walked to the front of the room, facing them. Alexander Waverly took the seat next to him at the side. Bill Del Floria took the chair next to his friend.

"Be seated gentlemen."

They all quickly took their seats.

"Gentlemen…You have been selected from your various locations and "occupations"," here he made a slight smile. "To become part of an organization dedicated to the preservation of world peace. When MI5 was founded, shortly before the Great War, we had no idea how important a task we had been handed. In the years since, it has become obvious that our primary objective is no longer contained to the European community."

Dickering opened a small wall panel with a large map of the world laid out. Several areas were marked with red circles, some blue, some black depending on the level of threat they presented. Every hemisphere had some marking or another in it. Areas marked all the way from Iceland to Australia and from London to New York to Hong Kong.

"What started out to be a minor division of British Military Intelligence has now grown to a worldwide espionage combatant. This new section will be that global organization

"You gentlemen have been hand-picked because of your own unique talents. Many of you for your skills in Diplomacy, Intelligence, Science, Communications, Physical Arts and some for your leadership abilities and training in Psychology. A few of you are already aware of the new branch and have proven yourselves up to task of helping to get it going."

He looked over at Waverly. The younger man stood up, picked up his file and stepped to the head of the table. Dickering looked at him, then back at the others.

"This is Alexander Waverly," Dickering said, "One of our top field operatives. Three years with MI5 over one-hundred missions under his belt….."

Bill Del Floria felt as if his jaw had dropped open. So that was why Alex disappeared for awhile. Why his letters were always sparsely worded. He looked at his friend and Waverly kept his usual stone face behind which was a smile ready to explode.

"…..He has been selected to do the briefing having been one of the main forces behind the development of the new division. He will brief you all on the new division, and then explain the training procedure."

"Thank you Sir," Alex said, saluting.

Dickering returned the salute, turned and walked out of the room. Alex raised his fist to his mouth as one might to suppress a cough. Instead he clipped his thumb beneath his chin and his eyes on Bill, gave his chin a slight push upward. Del Floria closed his slightly opened mouth and smiled.

For a moment there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief when Dickering left. The men at the table turned towards Waverly. And the feeling quickly dissipated.

"Gentlemen, you have on the table before you, the preliminary rules, regulations and guidelines for this new branch. Study them, learn them by heart. There will be no deviation from these rules. Especially in the area of the innocent lives we will encounter in our new profession."

For nearly five hours, Alexander talked, listened, answered questions and laid out the initial concepts of the new branch. He explained that many of the men who had never had training in this field were in for a four month program that would make Army Service feel like a day in Kinder-care. That would be followed by additional training in their areas of expertise.

They would be subjected to every form of interrogation tactic known to man, and a few that were not common except amongst the enemy. He told them to look at the person next to them, the person who would be their right arm or the knife in their back. At the end of the training session of the twenty in the room less than half would become full field operatives or in the case of the new division the term Agent would be used.

Dickering watched through a two way mirror as the young man spoke clearly and forcefully to the new recruits. Alexander had impressed him from the start as a man of goals. Ambitious but not so much so that he lost sight of the importance the men under him represented. He would be a great leader, trainer and mentor to the men chosen. He was a presence that expected respect and earned it easily. A force of nature unlike anything Dickering had ever seen before.

Alexander Waverly was a force to be reckoned with.

"Now I see on the list we have representatives from Britain, France, Austria, Italy, Egypt, Brazil, America, Canada, Scotland, Japan, Sweden, Germany and India," he said reading his list, "Good for a start."

As each nation was mentioned the agent or agents from that country raised their hands in acknowledgement. Waverly nodded.

"And you all are multi-lingual?"

They all acknowledged with a yes.

"Very well gentlemen. For the next two days you will be sequestered here at headquarters, and then we will go to the training area to begin…"

A hand came up. Waverly acknowledged.

"Excuse me… But will the training be here in London?"

"Training will be in a secured location. At 0530 you will each be loaded into a truck and transported to the training area. That is all the information you will have. There will be taught courses and finally field training. Once training begins there will be limited communication except partner to partner."

There was a momentary silence as the men took the information in.

"Anyone who feels they are not capable of completing the training or will be unable to cope with the high level of secrecy involved, you may leave now."

There was a faint stirring but no-one budged. They looked at the man at the head of the table.

"Very well..Colonel Dickering and I will be speaking to each of you individually throughout the rest of today. A guard is waiting outside the door to escort you to your quarters…Dismissed."

The others stood up taking their folders and files with them. They moved to the door.

Bill Del Floria grabbed his folders as well and looked at Alex. His friend was busily closing his folder, notebook and other things he had used in the briefing.

"So you've had over one-hundred missions?"

Alexander smiled.

"One-hundred and twenty-six to be exact."

Bill let out a low impressed whisper.

"But tell me….How many of those were actually successful?" Bill said grinning.

Alex laughed.

Dickering walked back into the room. Both of the younger men snapped to attention.

"All one-hundred and twenty-six, Mr. Del Floria," the Colonel said fighting his smile, "Alexander, we may as well start with your friend here."

Bill's face temporarily flushed. He swallowed the knot that suddenly formed in his throat and tried to look as calm as possible.

The three men had a seat at the table. Waverly shuffled thru the folders and pulled Bill's file out, handing it to the Colonel. Alexander sat stone-faced across from him. Bill hated it when he did that.

"Now this is not part of the training. It is merely to assure that the information we have on you and the information you give us are the same. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, Colonel Dickering," Bill said sharp and clear.

"William Lawrence Del Floria is your full name correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Born in Albany New York, Father's name Lawrence Henry Del Floria, deceased."

"Yes Sir."

"Tell me…How did a New York born young man become friends with someone born and raised here in the United Kingdom?"

"Our fathers were both pilots in the Great War. They flew with the Lafayette Escadrille. When they discovered they both had sons around the same age, they had us write to one another. Before my father left Europe at the end of the war, he had me flown over so we could meet."

Waverly remembered the day they met. He was seventeen, Bill was fifteen. But both boys hit it off splendidly. They found they much more in common then they had ever discussed in their writing and things developed from there.

When Alexander joined the National Service the following year, he continued to keep his friend posted and once Bill reached the age for military service, he volunteered for a test program in England. They ended up in the same outfit and had remained fast and faithful friends since. Watching out for one another no matter how bad things became.

Dickering talked and questioned him for almost two hours. He cross referenced many of his questions and was extremely pleased that the young man held his thoughts together and answered each question quickly, accurately and without breaking a sweat. The Colonel smiled.

"You and Waverly will be assigned as permanent partners. Of course he has the senior position. Is that a problem?"

Bill smiled.

"No sir…He's been bossing me around for years now...I'm use to it."

Dickering laughed and reached out his hand, giving Bill's a firm shake.

"Welcome aboard young man," Dickering said.

"Thank you sir."

"The guard will escort you down to the changing room so you may get into your uniform. Then someone will drive you back to the hotel."

Bill saluted. Both the other men returned the salute. He turned and walked towards the door.

"Save me a place at dinner," Waverly said causally smiling.

Bill gave him the thumbs up and walked out the door.

"Amiable chap, isn't he?" Dickering said.

"Yes sir, Colonel Dickering…And one of the few men I would trust with my life."

Dickering raised an eyebrow and looked at his young Agent. He could see the sincerity in Alexander's face. These two were great friends and that would make them an even better team.

The interviews went on throughout the day. Waverly could tell who would make it and who wouldn't just by listening to the answers and how steady the interviewee held his voice. Some were confident, some overly confident. Those would be the problem. There was no room for arrogance in this business.

They made it through the first half of recruits when Dickering looked at his watch.

"We may as well call it a day," he said, "Any thoughts so far, Agent Waverly?"

Alexander had sorted the folders into two piles and one folder was alone. He picked it up and handed it to the Colonel. Dickering looked at it and nodded.

"Sharp instincts, Alexander," he said, "I'm a bit worried about this one myself. He has all the training to excel in this field, but his ego is almost as big as he is."

"Yes sir, my thoughts exactly," Waverly said, "His credentials are great…But if he can't control his obsession with wanting to be first AND last, he'll die on his first assignment, as well as his partner."

"I agree…We will let him begin training, but if anything seems to be going amiss, he'll be pulled immediately."

"Yes sir."

Colonel Dickering dropped the folder on the maybe pile. He looked down once more at the name.

Hario Gustavo Beldon.

Waverly stood up and saluted his superior. He turned and headed towards the door.

"Oh yes and one more thing Alexander…"

The young man stopped as the Colonel walked up next to him.

"I am aware of the fact that four months in training is a long time. And I have no doubts in your abilities to lead and train these new men..But I do have concerns for your "personal well-being".."

The two men stood looking in the large mirror. Dickering reached over and pushed Alex's shirt collar down a bit, revealing two large bites on the side of his neck just below his collar, obviously made by human teeth.

"Have the Infirmary look at your...ah hum…"Battle wound" before you leave. And I suggest no more field maneuvers until training is over…Am I making myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Colonel….It won't happen again…"

The Colonel smiled, gave him a pat on the shoulder, then a gentle push to the door.

He remembered being young once himself.

But Alexander Garrett Waverly had to stay focused on his task at hand.

In two days they would be leaving for parts unknown to begin training.

Training for the greatest peace keeping organization the world would ever know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"**Into The Fire."**

**London**

**November 1930**

The rest of the interviews over, Waverly and Dickering worked at assigning partners within the group of recruits. Once both men had settled on the placement of each man they relaxed for a bit.

"This is going to be the sink or swim moment Alexander," Dickering said, "This new division's fate rest with the achievements of your teams. If it fails, the plan will be dropped….You do understand that correct?"

"Yes sir, Colonel Dickering," Waverly said with the slightest hint of a smile on his face, "They won't let you down sir….I know you're looking forward to spearheading the new division."

Dickering looked at his operative and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but smile.

"I won't be in contact with the operation until the second month. I don't want to distract the trainers with constant interruptions."

Waverly smiled.

"We still have a lot to do yet. Establishing a headquarters away from here, setting up a recruitment team to find more agents, and we still need to develop a name you know," Dickering said giving his back a stretch.

Waverly smiled and opened his leather valise. He removed a stiff sheet of artist paper from it and handed it to the Colonel. Dickering took the drawing and looked at it. He looked at his operative.

"Where did you come up with this?"

"Actually sir, Bill and I "accidentally" came up with the name. I just had to figure out what it would mean. The rest was fairly simple to come up with. After all, we will be a global organization."

"Very impressive," Dickering said nodding his head, "Very impressive…Indeed! This training session goes well I will pass this on for final approval. How did you "accidentally" come up with this?"

Waverly made a light chuckle.

"About a week ago, sir, while we were waiting for your final go-ahead, he and I were walking thru the park discussing….well…..women. Things became a bit, ah.." Alexander blushed. "I guess the only thing I can really say is boys will be boys! We started rough housing around and the next thing I knew we were in a wrestling match. Neither really had the other one pinned so we deiced to call it a drawl. The minute my back was turned the little bugger had me on the ground, knees on the back of my arms and he wouldn't let me up until I called…."

Dickering began to laugh loudly.

"Very fitting when thought in that context, Alexander," Dickering said putting the drawing in with his papers, "This will go under lock and key for now. Good luck my boy."

Dickering shook the younger man's hand.

Alexander strolled up to the hotel. He stopped and gave the back of his neck a rub. Something wasn't right. He checked that his revolver was well within his reach and kept a steady hand near it. He causally glanced around. All seemed clear. He walked up the steps into the lobby of the hotel.

No-one was behind the desk at the moment. He could hear the sounds from the tiny restaurant as patrons began to order their meals. The needle on the Victrola was bouncing off the label of the wax disc giving off a light scratching noise. He cautiously walked over, looked around and moved the needle back to the edge of the record then giving the crank a few extra turns.

Alexander tightened his grip on his Webley and turned to head towards the stairs.

There was a sharp pain between his shoulder-blades.

He saw the worn Persian rug coming closer to his face.

Then all went black.

The truck must have hit a pothole the size of an elephant. Its cargo bounced across the bed.

Alexander opened his eyes and saw Bill along with the other recruits all trying to hold on in the back of the rusty truck. With the exception of himself, all the men were blindfolded. He smiled.

"Having a nice ride gentlemen?" he asked.

The question was greeted by sneers, low grumbling and one snort of contempt. He smiled. Only one of the passengers seemed un-affected by the bumpy ride. As Alex watched him, he had the sneaking suspicion that the man could see right through the thick black cloth.

The truck suddenly stopped and all of the passengers found themselves flying towards the cab. There was a series of loud thuds, thumps and some under the breath cursing that quickly followed. The tailgate of the truck was opened and they were told to climb out.

As each recruit was removed from the truck, they were moved several feet apart from one another. This allowed Waverly to move freely between them. His job was to test their senses. Only a few shifted uneasily as he moved past them.

He walked over to Beldon. Alex felt his right eye twitch. It was a reflex action almost a sixth sense he had about people, if they made him uneasy or gave him a feeling of distrust. And this one did. Blindfolded or not. As Alex walked in front of him he saw a smile cross the other man's face.

Alex continued his walk.

Bill smiled and tilted his head back slightly.

"I know you're there," he said low almost in whisper.

"Very good….Except I'm in front of you," Alex said grinning as he stood a few inches behind his friend.

"Don't give me that," Bill replied, "My eyes are covered…Not my ears."

The sound of an approaching plane caught their attention. Out of reflex the men all looked skyward. Bill shook his head and laughed.

"A lot of good that did," he said.

"At least I know everyone's hearing and reflexes are in top order," Alex said, giving his sore back a rub.

They stood patiently as a car drove up followed by the fuel truck. The pilot who had flown the plane in was talking to several men in the car. A tall man with a thick crop of silver hair climbed out of the back seat and slipped his pilots cap on. He shook hands with the other pilot and turned and looked towards the plane.

The refueling was finally complete. And now it was time to move into the next leg of the journey.

The men had been instructed to remain where they were standing and not to remove the blindfolds. One by one they were led across the large uneven field to the plane. Once there, they were none to gently shoved inside.

Packed like sardines there was no danger of anyone sliding around in the small aircraft. Waverly walked to the cock-pit and took his seat. Another man stepped in behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry Michaels clobbered you," Santar said smiling, "Bit quick on the draw that one."

Bartomal Santar was a thin, oily looking man. He always kept his hair slicked tight to his scalp and his large bushy eyebrows all but hid two small dark eyes. He had earned the nickname "Snidely" after the villain in several old silent pictures and his co-agents would often asked how many damsels he had tied to railway tracks that week. At one time he had been suspected of being a double agent, but nothing concrete could ever be produced to prove it.

Alexander gave the back of his neck a rub and stared at Santar. They had been partners a few years back and Alex doubted very much the Michaels was just "quick on the draw". If he had two bob to bet, he would have on the idea that Santar had told his new partner to strike. A heavy sense of loathing sat will placed between the two men, and Alex made no bones about it.

"Dickering didn't tell me you were coming along," Alexander said as he slipped on his cap and head-gear.

"Course not," Santar replied, "He wanted to surprise you."

Alex shifted in his seat to get comfortable and looked out the window for the pilot. A smile crossed his face as he saw the man approach.

"Oh wonderful….Here comes Baron Von Richthofen," Santar said sarcastically.

Tall, still slender for a man his age, dressed in traditional bomber jacket, black boots with his tan trousers tucked inside, the pilot strolled towards the plane. He adjusted the strap of his leather flight cap and smiled at Alex. The wrinkles around his eyes and the corner of his lips the only thing giving away his age.

Santar went to the back to watch the recruits.

The pilot climbed into his seat and began to check his instruments. Alex tried his best not to break a smile as he watched the skill and precision the other man used to ready the craft. The older glanced over at him, then back at the controls. He motioned that they were ready to take off.

The pilot took a firm hold on the wheel. A deep breath, he pursed his lips and gave his mouth a slight twist.

"Is there something that you find amusing, Agent Waverly?" he asked, his voice firm.

"No sir," Alexander said, breaking his smile, "Air Marshal Waverly, sir". He bit down on his lip.

His father smiled.

After six hours, blindfolded in the back of a small, cramped, smelly plane, a few of the recruits were ready to be sick. The flight had been bumpy, an intentional stratagem filled with sharp dips, dives and even a few barrel rolls. The only ones who seemed to enjoy it were the pilot, co-pilot and one American hanging on for dear life, but with a smile on his face.

Santar sat quietly in the back, one hand clutching the steel rib of the plane, the other his stomach. He felt his body heave slightly as the plane began to make its decent. Steep and fast then a sudden upward motion caught the recruits by surprise. Unable to hold it back any longer a few lost what was left of their breakfast.

"Terrific," Santar shouted loudly from the back of the plane.

Alexander smiled and glanced back into the rear of the craft. Santar was trying desperately to stand, but couldn't get his footing on the now slick floor. His trousers and jacket were splattered with vomit and he was trying not to become sick himself.

The younger Waverly listened with immense pleasure as the other man slipped and fell sliding around the floor of the plane as it came in for a landing. He tried his best to hide his smile but wasn't very successful at it. Until the sound of the pilot clearing his throat wiped the smile away.

The two men exited the cockpit of the plane. The elder shook his head in disgust at the mess.

"You!" he shouted pointing at Santar, "Get these men out of here then get this mess cleaned up."

Santar glared at the man. The older Waverly raised one bushy eyebrow and glared back. Santar saluted.

"Yes sir…..Right away sir," he responded quickly.

Santar began pulling the others from the back of the plane. Alexander watched as the others swayed, stumbled, held onto one another, trying to get their stomachs back into place. A few fell face down on the ground and kissed the soft grass, happy to be on terra firma once again.

Bill swayed a bit, held his hands out to balance himself and started to take a step forward. But his foot for some unexplained reason didn't come down on the ground, but instead moved behind him. He fell forward and just lay still for a moment. After a few moments he pushed himself up with his hands and gave his head a gentle shake.

"Problem Del Floria?" Santar shouted back.

"No problem, sir," Bill was quick to announce, "Just the change in pressure," under his breath he added, "My whole damn head popped."

His ears picked up the restrained sound of Alexander's laughter and the American couldn't help but chuckle himself. He made it upright, sitting on the back of his legs.

"Blindfolds off gentlemen," the older Waverly shouted.

It was a welcomed order and the small black masks were quickly abandoned in the tall grass. Bill slipped his into his jacket pocket and gave his eyes a few blinks to adjust. He saw his partner standing in front of him, hand extended to help him to his feet. He clasped the hand and was pulled up.

The Air Marshall made a motion for them follow. The recruits began to follow and had gone about twenty yards when they were abruptly stopped. The pilot turned to face them. He looked past the men and shook his head.

"Agent Waverly!"

"Yes Sir, Air Marshall.."

"All of these men go on report!"

"Charges sir?"

The elder Waverly pointed back towards the plane.

"Blindfolds left behind….An agent never leaves a trace…"

Bill quickly removed his from his pocket to the Air Marshall's surprise.

"All except this man….Your name agent.."

"William Del Floria, Air Marshall, sir."

"First test passed Agent Del Floria."

He snapped his fingers and motioned for the others to follow.

Alexander stared straight ahead stone faced. But Bill knew his friend and partner was pleased.

They made it the small wooden barracks. Uniforms were laid out for each agent along with their necessary books. Black pants, black mock neck style shirts and their new holsters. Each team's assigned room was marked and as soon as the found where they should be, the names were removed from the doors.

Their rooms were separated, one team to a room. The quarters were cramped, dusty and chilly. The wind had picked up outside and it made a soft whistling sound as it wrapped around the building, sneaking in a few cracks around the window. Still, the privacy was welcome from what they had expected. Each man had a bunk, small cupboard for their clothes and each room had a small area that served as the wash room.

The building across the compound would serve as their classrooms and it also housed the administrative staff as well as gymnasium and mess hall. Several of MI5's top agents had assembled and were being given their instructions for the training classes. Every aspect was covered except for the firearms instructor.

Alexander checked that his Webley was in good working order. It was cleaned and loaded and he gave it a gentle pat as he slipped it into his new shoulder holster.

"Pretty jazzy," Bill said giving the leather holster a brush.

"These are new," Alex told him, "For the work we are going to be doing, these are much more flexible and accessible then the old back or side cradles. Yours should be in your cupboard. Better try it on and get it adjusted to fit."

Across the hall….

Hario Beldon and his partner Joseph Benderhoffen made themselves comfortable in the cramped quarters. Beldon reached inside his jacket and took out a pair of binoculars. He climbed up on the top bunk and putting the glasses to his face began to survey the compound thru the small window.

"Where did you get those?" Benderhoffen asked.

"From the plane."

"You've stolen a pair of binoculars from the plane?"

"Not stolen….Just exercising my agent privilege to commander any necessary equipment that will aid in my mission..."

Benderhoffen made a small snort.

"In other words….Stole."

Beldon shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He looked back out the window. He mumbled something under his breath.

With one swift motion, Joseph grabbed him by his ankles and yanked him from the bunk. Hario's chin caught the edge of the wooden bunk. He hit the floor with a hard thud, the lens of the binoculars shattered. He gave his chin a rub and felt his warm blood dripping from the cut.

"I speak the same language you do, unehelichen Sohn einer Kuh (bastard son of a cow)!" Benderhoffen shouted planting his foot in Beldon's side.

Beldon was on his feet and the two men became enbrioled in a fight. The noise could be heard throughout the building. Some of the other recurites had come into the hallway to listen as the fight spralled out into the hall.

The two men continued to pummel one another.

A single shot resonated though the hall and it became abnormally quiet. Beldon and Benderhoffen looked up to see Alexander Waverly blow the smoke from the gun barrel and hold the weapon in their direction.

"We are here to fight an enemy….Not each other…What started it?"

Waverly's eyes moved past them into the room. He saw the binoculars in the floor. The young man walked in and knelt down. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to pick up the object. As soon as it was in the air, the remaining glass from the lens fell into the floor.

"How did these get here?" Waverly asked, "Well?"

"I was just reprimanding agent Benderhoffen with regards to those, sir," Beldon said coolly, "It appears that he removed them from the plane without authorization."

Waverly stood up holding the strap of the broken binoculars carefully. He glanced back towards the door and saw Bill roll his eyes. His partner gently rubbed the underside of his chin. Alexander saw the cut under Beldon's chin and the blood on the edge of the bunk frame.

"Agent Benderhoffen," Waverly said sternly, "Why did you remove these from the plane?"

Willie saw a slight sneer quickly cross Beldon's face. He fixed his focus on the man and stared at him. Beldon stood with an air of having gotten away with his deed. His body language spoke volumes as he stood arrogantly looking at his befuddled partner, arms folded, head back and his steely dark eyes drilling into Joseph.

Benderhoffen looked at his partner. He felt a rage building inside him. He was going to take the rap for his partner's misdeed and it infuriated him.

"I was merely exercising my agent privilege to commander any necessary equipment that will aid in my mission…sir," Joseph said, swallowing the knot in his throat.

Willie observed the sneer on Beldon's face quickly change to look of contempt. His arms dropped to his side, and Willie Del Floria was almost certain he heard Beldon's knuckles crack as he tightened his fist.

"Very good agent," Waverly said, "I'll be sure to note that on your record. Now listen up all of you. We have our first class in half an hour. Each recruit will be expected to show up dressed in full uniform. So I suggest you get ready."

The others quickly moved back to their rooms to prepare for the class.

Waverly walked past Benderhoffen and Beldon, stopping to lock eyes with the latter.

"Go to the infirmary and have that cut taken care of Agent Beldon," he said.

"Yes, sir," Beldon said an edge in his voice.

Hario Beldon turned and started off down the hallway to the infirmary.

"Agent Beldon."

Hario turned and looked back at Waverly.

"We'll bill you for these," Waverly said holding the binoculars up in Beldon's direction.

Waverly stood firm and watched the man jerk his body back around and storm off to the medical facility.

"We need to watch that one," Willie said, "Like a hawk."

**2 months later….**

The tiny island had become their home. Each day they rose early, breakfast, then the long run around the outer edge. There were a few small hills to climb, and they had become increasingly smaller as the men became use to them each day. There was training forest survival, foraging and tactical maneuvers to test their stamina. But with only a few minor incidents, a broken finger, some contusions and a lot of scrapes, the men came through it all.

The early problems seemed to calm down and take what was required of them in stride, some even excelling in some areas. After all, the way to advance is to be the best.

The recruits closed up their books and headed out for their other respective classes. Some had practice on the firing range, some in interrogation technique, some went to bomb disposal class and the rest had their practice in the gym.

Those in the gym classes practiced their fencing, judo, jujitsu and hand-to-hand combat. Beldon was paired with Waverly. Alexander succeeded in taking the other out three of four falls. Willie was proving himself quite an expert at Jujitsu and the instructor was very impressed with his progress.

In fact all of the recruits were beginning to excel in their new classes. After the books and physical arts each man who had had little to no flight training began a course in how to handle an airplane. The Air Marshall conducted these classes.

There had been many close calls, but the men were learning. They had to learn to take-off, land and out maneuver another aircraft. There were mock dog fights, complete with anti-aircraft fire, to test their speed, skills and level headedness. It would prove disastrous to have an agent panic in the face of an enemy plane. But they all learned quickly.

Bill and Waverly were relaxing at the firing range. Standing around quite naturally Alex would unexpectedly call for cover and both men would draw and fire at their targets. They drilled in emergency tactics if one was wounded and how to protect your partner.

Alexander lay sprawled out on the ground, Willie kneeling over him using himself as a shield for his fallen partner. He fired off his rounds and then lowered his weapon cautiously. He saw Alex open one eye.

"You've lost some weight!" Alex said casually.

Bill moved back and stood up. One hand gave his stomach a pat as the other pulled his partner up from the ground.

"Almost ten pounds," Willie said smiling, "I think it's all the physical training….That or the rotten food no-one ever wants to eat."

Both men laughed. Waverly suddenly snapped to attention. Willie followed as the Air Marshall walked up.

"You two make a fine team," the elder Waverly said, shaking their hands, "Your father would be very proud of you William."

"Thank you sir," Willie replied.

"What about mine, sir?" Alex asked trying not to smile.

"He's beginning to think you were adopted," the Air Marshall said raising one eyebrow.

Willie began to laugh and Alex gave his mouth a slight twist of indignation. He reached over causally and gave his partner a sharp shove, throwing him off balance. Willie hit the ground still laughing.

"Alexander!" his father said sternly, "I have to take Roberts up for his flight lesson."

Alex helped Willie stand back up.

"You do know that the Colonel will be here sometime today? Dickering wants to go over the final exam tactics and he also wants a full report on everyone here."

The Air-Marshall shook Del Floria's hand, then his son's. The elder Waverly started to walk away when he stopped and turned back to the men. He pulled his son close and gave him a firm pat on the back.

"You are one fantastic agent, Alex," he said low to his boy, "But even more important to me…You are one hell of a fine son….I love you boy." He added in a whisper.

Alex had never heard his father say anything like that before. He was always supportive of him, but it wasn't in his father's nature to express his feelings so openly. Alex tightened his hold on his dad.

"I love you too father," he said low to the other man, "Sir."

They stood apart. The Air Marshall smiled as the two young men saluted. He returned the salute and headed out to his plane.

The door in the administrative office opened. One of the MI5 trainers looked up from his files. He quickly rose to his feet and saluted

"Good Afternoon, Colonel Dickering, sir…." the Corporal said holding the salute.

"Good Afternoon, Corporal," Dickering said returning the salute, "At ease….Where is Air Marshall Waverly?"

"Recruit needed a few more hours of flight training, sir….They are just taking off now."

"Very good, Corporal," Dickering said smiling, "Have there been any problems so far?"

"Only one sir," the Corporal flipped thru his chart, "We have one recruit who has problems attending class, disappears for hours on end…."

"Which recruit is it Corporal?"

The Corporal flipped through the files and pulled one out. The file wasn't marked like the others Dickering observed as the younger man handed it towards him.

"Here you are sir…..A Bartomal Santar, sir."

The Corporal saw Colonel Dickering's face drain of all its color.

"What is Santar doing there?" he shouted.

"He came in with the new recruits sir. His file was with the others…Is there a problem, Colonel?"

"He isn't even an MI5 agent anymore! Find him Corporal, and get me Captain Hendricks immediately."

"Yes sir," the flustered Corporal said quickly calling the Captain.

Alexander, Willie and several of the other men stood watching as the plane taxied down the makeshift runway rising slowly into the air. It circled back over the island and made a slight lift towards the clouds.

The air was suddenly filled with the wail of the emergency sirens, and the stunned men turned towards the main administration building. They took off running across the compound as low to the ground as possible.

At first no-one was really sure what had happened.

There was a blinding flash like lightning from the sky, followed by a tremendous roar. The men were literally knocked off their feet. They quickly got up and began running again

They all turned their heads in the direction of the plane.

Alex stopped in his tracks.

He watched in disbelief as the last remnants of the plane wafted slowly towards the sea below.

Only the smoldering black cloud hung in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Written By: Solo's Girl

**Chapter 3**

"**A Good Agent…."**

The recruits sat around the table in silence. They looked at one another, wondering what would happen now. With the destruction of the Air Marshalls plane and the loss of Agent Roberts, the entire future of the new division was in jeopardy. It was so quiet in the room you could actually hear the wind outside as it whipped the snow around the building.

William Del Floria leaned back in his chair. One hand rubbed across his eyes then across his forehead as he thought about his friend and partner. The fingers of his other hand began to drum lightly on the tabletop. The others turned and looked at him. He looked at them, and then quickly drew his hands together, leaning forward against the table. His eyes moved to the closed door just off to the side.

Alexander Waverly stood quietly as Dickering, Hendricks and several of the other men talked. His hands folded behind him, his father's silk scarf weaving in and out of his fingers. It had washed up on the shoreline and he now held it dearly.

"Then that is what needs to be done," Dickering said turning to his top man, "Alexander, do you think the men can handle this assignment. They haven't been fully trained you know…"

"Yes sir," he said, "I believe the men are fully capable of the task." And that was all he said.

Dickering looked at the staunch young man before him. Something was different. He could see Alex trying to maintain his composure in light of losing his father. But something else was different. His hair parted differently? Slightly more to the side perhaps but that wasn't it. His mustache? That was it. Alex had shaved off his mustache.

Dickering dismissed Hendricks and the others, asking them to begin the briefing of the others. The men exited the room. For a moment the Colonel stood looking at his top agent.

Alexander didn't flinch. Shoulders back, head up but not in an arrogant manner, his firm chin out, his entire body language one of authority and obedience.

Dickering smile sadly at him.

"Alexander, I am most heartily sorry about your father," he said finally, "The Air Marshall was truly a great man and a most daring pilot."

The Colonel folded his arms and gently tapped one fist against his chin as he observed his agent.

"Thank you sir."

"I noticed that you have, ah, "washed" your upper lip…."

At this Alex let a faint hint of a smile cross his lips and Dickering saw him take a deep breath.

"Yes sir…I did it in honor of him, sir…My father never really liked it. He always told me that mustaches were for randy teenagers and elderly men trying to regain their youth….."

Dickering fought to hold back his smile. He coughed deep in his throat to suppress his urge to laugh as his fingers slipped across his own mustache. At this he saw the young man become slightly uneasy.

"No offense intended sir," Waverly said, almost choking as the phrase slipped from his lips.

Dickering smiled broadly and gave the young agent a hearty pat on the shoulder.

"None taken Alexander…Shall we go in to the briefing?"

Waverly stepped to the door and opened it, allowing the elder man to enter the other room first. He saw Willie sit bolt upright in his seat. The young American made a sad but inquisitive look at his partner. Alex simply acknowledged his partners concern with a slight nod. Willie made a half smile and gave him a knowing nod in return.

"Men….We have a traitor on the island…One Bartomal Santar….You remember the man correct?"

The others nodded that they did indeed remembered him and most without any liking.

"He has infiltrated this training mission and we highly suspect he is behind the bombing of the plane. Santar was stripped of his rank in MI5 only a few days before this mission was to begin. His recruitment file was forged and that is how he was able to gain access to the plane and eventually the island…Now, as you know we are heading into a nasty patch of weather…radio forecast another ten inches of snow possible on top of the five we have already…Winds in access of forty knots….Santar will not be able to hide out in this much longer…Even if he has found a cave or other means of shelter…" Dickering stepped to the side.

Waverly reached for the long cylinder hanging on the wall and pulled down the map of the island. He picked up the long wooden pointer.

"We have ample protection of the administration and barracks buildings," Alex began, pointing as he spoke, "There is only a small area that might possibly have a hidden cave or two…here, near the shore line…There is little protection in the woods as the trees are now almost completely bare… Each team will take a separate section starting at the outer perimeter working inward in a "pinchers" movement. There is to be no area of ground untouched or unexplored…."

Dickering stepped back and ran his hand around the map, pointing to different sections.

"There are several places here, here and here," he pointed out, "Where the terrain dips and is ridged by large rock formations…."

The recruits made notes, nodding. Many remembered these places having found them the hard-way as their aching extremities reminded them.

"These formations can easily be dug out and made into shelters, then camouflaged. I want each boulder checked….." Here Dickering smiled slightly. "Literally no stone unturned…If you find anything no matter how minute or insignificant you may believe it to be, report to your partner. Each man will be equipped with a radio, and the code phrase "Dickering" will be used to signify that you have found something. It is not ego on my behalf Gentlemen….I will be monitoring the radio frequencies and the homing devices of each radio. Once the code is used I will find your position and another team will be dispatched for back up using the various location codes Captain Hendricks has given you already…..No other information should be given out…..Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, Colonel Dickering," the recruits responded in unison.

Dickering yielded the floor to Waverly.

"I know that each and every one of you will put your utmost effort behind this assignment…You have proven yourselves capable of that in training…." the young agent said, "I know we can find Santar and bring him…." Here the words faltered in his voice only slightly.

Dickering stepped up beside him.

"We want to bring him in alive if possible gentlemen," the Colonel said, "Remember…It is the purpose of this new division to seek Justice, not revenge."

Willie looked at his partner. He knew Alex would have a difficult time with this but his faith in his friend's abilities and cool headedness out-weighted any doubts he might have.

"Good," Dickering said, "I want to see each team in the barracks hallway in full winter gear…Fifteen minutes….Make sure your weapons are loaded and your radios fully charged."

Ten minutes later.

Willie had said nothing to his friend as they changed into the white winter survival gear. He watch as Alexander carefully inspected his Webley and slid it into the holster. He noticed the almost military fashion he used to secure his weapon and after slipping on his thick jacket, attached the radio to the outer holder.

"At ease, Waverly," Willie said, drawing down his brow.

It was only then that Alex realized the way had been preparing for the assignment, as if he were going to war. Every little movement was quick, sharp and deliberate. He did ease back and looked at his friend.

"Sorry Willie," he said.

Del Floria smiled and slipped into his thermal outer pants pulling them up over the skintight layer of padding beneath. He slipped into his boots, tucking the pants in and lacing the boots snuggly around them. He picked up his weapon, checked that it was loaded and that he had extra ammunition, and then carefully put it in his holster. He picked up his jacket and gave his attire a look over. The winter outer gear was thick and puffed

"I fell like a snowman. You know….even with all the weight I've lost and the cold water gear on underneath, these pants still make my ass look huge," Willie said with a smirk, giving the waistband a tug.

He checked his back, front, and then bent forward as if he could look between his knees to see his behind. Anything to break the tension in the air. He stood upright and shrugged his shoulders.

Alexander reached over a grabbed a small section at the front of his partner's thinning hair, giving the man's head a gentle tug from side to side, looking at him inquisitively. He let him go. Willie gave his head a rub.

"No not at all," Alex said, gently clipping the other man's head with his fingers, "Your ass looks the same size it always is…!"

Willie gave him a head-butt to the stomach, knocking Alex back onto his bunk. He heard the sound of laughter, low and maybe not as whole hearted as it often was, but it was laughter all the same. And just what they both needed.

They were the first two into the hallway. Waverly cleared his throat and barked out the command to assemble. In seconds every door in the hallway opened and the agents came to ridged attention next to their respective rooms.

The main door opened and Dickering walked in.

Bartomal Santar was quietly hunkered down in his hideaway. Fashioned from an abandoned fuselage, it had taken him months to dig the passage deeper back and away from the barracks building, and then bury the plane section. He had fashioned a small Franklin styled stove for heat, the pipe cleverly connected to the base of the barracks chimney. It was warm, cozy and totally undetectable, especially now that the snow was lying thick above.

Santar leaned back and opened a tin of kippers and a bottle of Guinness. He was very pleased with what he had accomplished so far. He had established his hiding place, equipped it so it was livable, sabotaged the Air Marshall's plane and sent the existence of the new branch into jeopardy He sat the bottle down and tore a large chunk from the bread loaf. The radio however interrupted his meal. He sat the food down and placed the headphones over his ears.

The static was almost defining. He gave the knobs a few turns to try and clear it. Some sound was coming through but still not clear enough. He slowly gave the pole attached a turn, adjusting the antenna only ever so slightly.

Joseph Benderhoffen stopped and did a double take towards the barracks. His partner looked at his strange expression.

"Was ist es, Joseph?" Beldon asked.

The agent made another hard stare towards the barracks. A hefty gust of wind blew up and the small hedgerow near the building bent and swayed once more.

"Nichts...Ich vermute..Ich dachte, ich sah..." (Nothing...I guess...I just thought I saw...) Benderhoffen said giving his eyes a brisk rub then moving his snow goggles back in place.

The two agents continued their path towards the woods.

Waverly raised his arm and motioned for his partner to stop. He lifted his binoculars and focused them on Hario and Joseph. He watched carefully.

"What's up, Alex?" Bill asked quietly.

"Benderhoffen thought he saw something...But didn't say what."

Willie was amazed by Alex sometimes. Not only could his partner read lips, a trait he learned from a young, deaf French girl, but he could do so in almost four different languages. It was very useful on the job, but most of his practice was from personal use.

Both men waited for a call to assist.

None came.

"He didn't report in," Alexander said shaking his head.

He and Del Floria made their way cautiously around the administration building, checking every nook and cranny coming up empty each time. They went slowly, single file, away from the building and headed towards the training area.

By walking one behind the other, they made only one set of tracks in the deep snow. And since Alex had the longer legs he could clear the path more easily than his partner. By walking back to back they could cover each other as well in case of a surprise. Both men being right handed, their natural instinct was to always look to the right first. This way ones right was the others left and so both sides could be watched with equal purpose.

They had made it to the training area. A section of the tiny island littered with burnt out cars, old airplane engines and parts, worn machinery leftover from "the Great War", and other usefully useless pieces of ironmongery.

Carefully looking behind and under everything there they made their way around the scrap heap.

"Nothing here," Del Floria said kicking the snow from his boots.

He moved one foot back and forth pushing the snow to the sides, then gave his cold extremity a light twist to make sure it was still attached. He reached down to retie the leather strings. He gave his head a slight turn and an inquisitive look crossed his face.

"Alex," he said kneeling down, "Look at this."

Waverly walked over and knelt down in the snow, using the other man's shoulder to momentarily balance himself. Both men reached down a carefully brushed the snow away.

The ground had been frozen solid for the past month. There was hardly any grass anymore and anything that managed to penetrate the hardened earth left its mark.

"What is that?" Alex asked looking at the long divots dug out in the frozen ground.

"It looks like something has be dragged away...something rather heavy to makes ruts this deep."

They looked around. From this vantage point they had a good view of the training area and its hodge-podge collection of junk. They once again studied everything that was there.

"Something's missing...," Bill said low, "But what?"

Both men pulled their collapsible trench shoves from their gear and began to carefully push the snow aside. First heading into the metal workings. They dug and shoveled for almost twenty minutes. Then they found the answer to their question.

Alex reached down into the indention in the ground. Bill quickly scanned the area, made a few mental calculations and came up with the measurements of what they were looking for. Both men racked their brains to try and remember what had been there, that size, heavy enough to make an indent that deep.

Waverly unzipped his jacket a bit and pushed his hood back. He removed his snow goggles to get a closer look. As he bent forward the silken flight scarf wrapped around his neck fell forward. Bill smiled and reached over taking the silken tassels in gloved hand. He held them up for his partner to see. Both men smiled.

"The old plane fuselage," they both said.

"Of course," Waverly said, "It was a small section of a Vickers , but enclosed enough to make a fair shelter...Santar must have dragged it way...But to where?" He scanned the area.

Bill smiled and handed his friend one of the shovels. They looked back at the thick blanket of snow.

"We're going to need help," Alex said.

But Willie Del Floria already had his radio in hand.

"Dickering," he said clearly into the receiver.

The Colonel recognized the voice and honed in on Willie's radio. One other team was close and using the predetermined code, he sent back up to his top two agents.

Agents Smithe of Canada and Driscol of Scotland responded immediately. When Alex explained what needed to be done the two men smiled and took out their shovels.

"Me Da dug trenches during the war," Driscol said low as they began to clear the snow.

A sudden tree snap sent all four men onto the ground. Willie was the first to look up. All clear. And the digging began again.

Santar finally had a relatively clear line. There was still static and a few pops but the voice from the other side came through strong. He filled his new boss in on the status to date.

"So the new Remote system worked well did it?" the flat voice came thru.

"Yes sir. Like a charm," Santar said, "I managed to tweak the radio frequency up a few bars to penetrate the thick metal shell of the plane and just at the right time…press….BOOM! It blew into so many pieces even the fish couldn't find anything big enough to nibble on." He smiled and took another drink.

Laughter came thru the static of the radio.

"And your location?"

"They won't find me sir…..Until I'm right on top of them. I waited for the snow to start falling before moving my shelter. Covered any possible tracks. The radio antenna is well hidden…Looks like part of the hedgerow branches and with the wind you can't see it move when I need to get better reception."

"MI5 taught you very well my friend. I am most impressed."

Santar smiled and sat up a bit straighter. As if the voice on the other end could him as well.

"And what about the others?"

"Not to worry sir. I have laid out a very elaborate series of, ah shall we say, "accidents" that will occur on their seek-and-destroy mission."

"And the younger Waverly?"

"I have something very special planned for my former partner sir. Something he'll remember for a long, long time."

"What do you mean, Santar? I want Waverly dead."

"If I may sir….There are a lot of things much worse than death…"

The other end of the radio fell silent for a moment.

"You are going to make a fine officer one day very soon," the voice came back, "Keep me informed of your progress and the extermination of this new agency."

"Ja Herrkommandant," Santar said smiling.

The radio made one last squeal before the connection broke. Santar removed his headgear and once again picked up his bread and kippers. Raising his bottle in his other hand he tipped it gently towards the ceiling of his shelter.

"And to you, Alexander Waverly," he said as if the name made a bad taste in his mouth, "Ein frohes Neues Jahr!" (Happy New Year!).

Santar picked up a small metal control box and extended its antenna. He then connected it to the field radio he had been using to boost its power. A sickening smile curled across his thin lips as he flipped the toggle switch.

All of the agents worked meticulously thru the cold and snow. Every inch of the island had to be covered and they would indeed cover every single inch of it. The teams struggled against the harsh winds, heavy snow and pounding surf. Waves crashed ashore well inland and for the teams covering the shoreline the work was particularly hard. But they pressed on.

The Egyptian agent was nearly pulled out to sea when a heavy wave broke over him. But his diligent partner from Italy held fast to his arm and the jagged rocks finally pulling his partner to safety. The two men sought shelter in cave below the rocky shore. Once inside they moved as far back as possible to escape the harsh water of the sea.

"Well," Hasani said removing his sopping hood, "That was interesting.."

He slipped off his soaked gloves dropping them on a large rock. His slender fingers ran through his thick black hair, and then gave the sweat soaked strands a hard shake. His partner held up his hands to ward off the spray.

"Hey aren't we wet enough for you already," DeMonte said from behind his folded arms.

His English was still slightly broken, but until he learned Egyptian it was the only language he and his partner had in common. He lowered his arms and a wide smile crossed his lips. He pointed to Hasani.

"You look like….how you say…oh yes..you look like somebody scared you really bad," DeMonte said handing his partner his snow goggles.

Hasani looked at his refection. Indeed he did. His silken hair was standing out all over his head like little burnt matches that had suddenly sprung back to life. He tried desperately to press them down. Finally he gave up and rubbed his soft olive colored skin, bringing a faint red glow from somewhere deep within his frozen cheeks.

"Better?" Hasani asked

His partner nodded.

"Good…..I need to live up to my name you know…In Egypt, Hasani means "handsome"."

DeMonte laughed loudly.

"Did you parents miss that mark or what?" he said giving his partner a shove.

Hasani bulls-eyed his partners face with a waded wet glove. The Italian threw it back laughing.

"And you….What does DeMonte mean in your language?"

"It means "of the mountain" if you have to know."

"Would explain the rocks rolling around in your head."

"We need to find a spot back…" DeMonte said waving his hands towards the back of the cave, "Away from the water…"

He pulled his torch from his pack and they quickly found their way towards the rear of the cave. They stopped in their tracks. The agents felt their stomachs heave slightly at the sight before them.

Tossed casually against the wall of the cave were two severely charred bodies.

"We need to alert the Colonel," DeMonte said reaching for his radio.

He moved back to the front of the cave to get a signal. Hasani meanwhile moved the bodies to show them more respect than had been previously done by Santar. He said a quick prayer for the lost souls of their fellow agent and the gallant Air Marshall.

Beldon flagged his partner down and the two worked their way slowly towards the shoreline. They were the closest team. Once within the tree line it was possible to move a bit faster using the bare but thick trucked trees for shelter.

"Another team is coming," DeMonte said walking back to his partner. "You moved them?"

"They needed to be shown respect in their deaths," Hasani said standing back up. He walked over to his friend. "It is going to be awhile before back up gets here."

The two agents began to look for rocks they could use to cover the burnt remains. It would do until training was completed and reconnaissance could be sent to pick them up for proper burial. They stood back and looked at the two long rows of rocks.

The two agents leaned against the wall of their shelter. For awhile neither man said anything.

"Why do you want to do this?" Hasani asked.

"I have seen too many small men and small countries try to prove their power," DeMonte said, "It is my way of protecting what I love and believe in….You?"

"Same reason," Hasani said smiling, "I was brought up believing there is good in all mankind…But there is not unfortunately….Wait…Do you hear that?"

DeMonte turned his head and listened. A scrape. A low faint click sound. Rocks settling? Water dripping down the walls perhaps? DeMonte pointed back towards the bodies.

A faint flash of light seemed to be coming from just beyond the spot the bodies had been found in.

"Is that light from your torch?" Hasani asked.

DeMonte grabbed his partners coat sleeve and the two men turned, running with all they had towards the mouth of the cave. Sliding on the icy floor of the cave the two agents fought to keep their footing. The light form the opening was in sight at last.

They had one more small turn to make. Hasani grabbed his partner's arm with one hand, a large stalagmite with the other. With one powerful motion the agent threw his partner clear of the cave, watching him hit the raging water outside.

DeMonte struggled to get his head above the water. He looked towards the entrance of the cave and saw his partner. Hasani made it out and was heading straight for him.

Both me felt the sudden warmth as flames shot around and above them. A tremendous roar and shock wave threw them both back and under the frigid water. The back wash picked them both up and they felt their cold bodies thrown into the air.

Almost as if they were flying.

The vibration started slowly and spread across the island.

Waverly, Del Floria, Smithe and Driscoll felt themselves being thrown from side to side, a top one another, then flat on the ground. The men couldn't seem to get their balance as the ground shook violently below them. Willie felt one of the small shovels catch the side of his head as the men were thrown in every direction.

Dickerson and the others found themselves thrown violently into the floor as the administrative building shook to its foundation. Emergency calls began to pour in as the field agents tried to figure out what was going on. The Colonel could hear the various shouts of his recruits, some confused, some in pain.

A huge wall of smoke and flame erupted in front of Beldon and his partner. The ground began to cave in before them. The future back they moved the wider the gap opened. Benderhoffen slipped and quickly disappeared. He felt a sharp tug and his jacket tightened against his throat.

"Hold on Joseph!" Hario shouted over the roar of the flames.

Beldon released his grip but only one hand and pulled the glove from that hand. Once free he reversed the hold and removed his other glove. It was much easier to pull his partner barehanded. Joseph struggle as flames shoot around him singing his winter gear. He could feel the intense heat penetrate the soles of his boots and they began to smoke.

There was another crackling sound and a large tree near them began to fall. Hario Beldon watch as the tree moved in slow motion towards them. He felt the sharp pain across his shoulders and back as the tree pinned him down. Still hanging over the large fire hole, his hands continued to hold his partner while the rest of his body lay in the freezing snow.

Bartomal Santar braced himself in his small hiding place. The remote controller dropped from his fingers and a look of sheer terror closed his face.

"What the hell?" he shouted .

The small stove fell over and ash spewed all around him. He was tossed around inside the tiny compartment which was now filling with smoke. Santar struggled to find his warm gear as he desperately climbed in the direction of his tombs exit.

Forcing the small hatch open, snow falling in around him, the ex-agent crawled out into the open air.

"Waverly! Look!" Driscoll shouted pointing across the open field towards the buildings.

The chimney bricks of the barracks building were falling away.

But half way across the field….

There was a thick cloud of black smoke rising.

From the middle of the snow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"**The Men from U.N.C.L.E."**

"Hario!" Joseph shouted looking up at his partner.

Beldon lay still, precariously dangling over the ever widening abyss. The flames jumped as tiny explosions continued to rock the tiny island. The tree pinning him down had begun to smolder as sparks leapt up and buried themselves deep in the bark.

Joseph noticed that his partner's jacket had been pulled back tight against his throat. Beldon was slowly being suffocated by the jacket and smoke combined. His hood had been pulled back by the tree and his head and face were totally exposed to the elements.

Benderhoffen managed to turn himself around and started using his partner as a means of escape from the fire pit. He made it up the crumbling wall and swung his leg over one end of the tree. He could hear Beldon moan as the log pressed him harder into the ground. Joseph scanned the area and saw two of the other agents trying to get back to the barracks. He flagged them down.

Another roar and a violent shake sent the three men onto their backs. They heard a cry of agony. While the two agents tried to move the tree, Joseph held his partners legs and pulled. The tree rolled into the fire pit, throwing flames high into the air.

Joseph grabbed his partner and fell back into the ground. He carefully pressed the wet, heavy snow against Beldon's head as he moaned in pain once more. The agent quickly removed his jacket then his clean shirt beneath. One of the others held Beldon steady as Joseph wrapped the shirt around Hario's head.

Beldon blacked out. The pain in his head was tremendous. The last roar of flames had caught him in the face. His forehead, cheeks and eyes were blistered. His beautiful sandy blond hair was burned away leaving his head pocked with small patches of brittle stubble and blistered skin. With each beat of his heart, Joseph could see the vessels below the skin struggle to move the blood.

"What's happening?" one of the other men shouted over the roar.

"I am not sure…..An earthquake would have stopped by now," another said.

The men tried to gain their balance, something they found was only achievable if they stayed low or on their knees. Joseph thought hard. He made the other two men crouch side by side. He joined them on one end.

They managed somehow to drape Beldon across their three backs. It was a strange sight but one that gave them the balance and weight to at least stay on their feet. Benderhoffen grabbed his partner's arm and held tight. The man at the other end wrapped his arm around Hario's legs.

"Colonel Dickering what is going on!" Hendricks shouted.

Plaster from the ceiling was beginning to fall; the windows were coming out of their frames. The old building was falling apart around them. One of the men had already been killed when a large beam snapped and struck him. The division leaders scrambled to gather as much Intel and equipment together as possible as they headed for the doors.

Dickering continued to monitor the radio. He sent a coded distress call out. Someone had to hear them.

Hopefully someone close by.

The rumbling began to grow stronger. Now small pockets of earth were blowing out all around the island like bubbles blown in a glass of water. The snow was covered in ash. One side of the barracks building had collapsed and the other was swaying with each vibration.

Waverly, Del Floria, Smithe and Driscoll were scrambling on hands and knees towards the smoke column that was rising from the center of the field. The men plowed thru the snow as if it were merely piles of cotton instead of heavy wet precipitation. Almost like large moles they pushed it aside digging thru.

Driscoll was the first to find Santar's hiding place and tumbled head first into the hole containing the fuselage. Willie and Smithe reached into the smoking hole, finally finding their friend and pulling him back into the fresh air.

Waverly pointed to a set of tracks that swayed away from the hole. He motioned the men closer and nodded at the trail.

"I'll follow the main path, Willie to my right, Smithe to the left. Driscoll stay here and try to radio for back up. He couldn't be very far ahead."

The small group broke and followed the path. Driscoll pulled out his radio and called Dickering.

"Mayday….Mayday….." Dickering called thru his wireless.

The static was deafening but he kept on hoping someone was listening.

The rumbling below was becoming louder and stronger. The trees shook to their roots. Small almost volcanic type eruptions were happening everywhere. There was no positive space that was safe.

Alexander dove into the snow bank as a small pocket blew up in front of him. He had barely managed to dodge it in time. The young agent took a deep breath and steadied himself. He carefully lifted his head above the snow field and looked for the next snow trail. Five feet ahead he quickly calculated then two paces right.

He took another breath and moved quickly around the burning hole and rapidly melting snow finding the connecting trail. Another burst of speed and Waverly drove onward.

Santar had found another place just beyond the woods near the shoreline. In the shelter of the rocks he sat up his radio once more. The normally calm man was on the verge of hysterics as he called for help. At the moment he would even settle for anything, even Waverly.

His hands fumbled to get the radio antenna up and he cursed himself when his trembling fingers snapped the thin metal pole in half. His fist pounded the radio violently. The static, whirls and whines filled the air as he grabbed the transmitter.

"Kommen in Steinadler..(Come in golden eagle)," he called, "Kommen in Steinadler…..Amsel ruft Steinadler (blackbird calling golden eagle)….Please come in….." He pounded the radio again.

"Was geschieht Amsel…..Haben Sie entsorgt die Agenten?" (What is happening Blackbird…Have you disposed of the agents?")

"Ich bin mir nicht Sicher, was passierd…..ich los, eine kleine Gebuhr zu eninem team nun beseitigen die gesamte Insel….." (I'm not sure what is happening…I set off a small charge to eliminate one team now the entire island…")

His words were interrupted by a continuous stream of profanity as the voice on the other end erupted himself. Most of it Santar knew but the static and the other man's heavy accent made it difficult to decipher. The two words stuck out.

Ammunition Dump.

The island had been used by the British during the war as an secret underground storage dump for its fuel, bombs and other weapons. Cleared out after the war and given to MI5 to use for training purposes, the often abandoned island had been subsequently used by smugglers and another enemy as a place to stockpile gunpowder, gasoline and various other materials.

Underneath the rolling fields and small landing strip were miles of tunnels, caves and hidden grottos which had been filled to the brim again. The booty cleverly hidden with dirt, rocks giving the illusion of a cave in.

The one explosion in the cave along the shore had set up a massive chain reaction that was now threatening to sink the small piece of land into the sea. Already large segments along the shoreline were crumbling and falling into the water. The further the waves came inland, the more was washed away.

Santar felt the ground below his feet shake with a fury unlike any he had ever felt before. He clutched to a small tree nearby trying to hold it and the radio. He could hear the ranting man on the other end. The radio went dead.

The little man on the other end of the radio slammed the transmitter down, denting the top of the radio as he did. He dropped back in his chair and gave his face a hard rub. His fingers pushed his hair back and then gently drummed against his small black mustache.

He hated to lose the statically placed island. But his ambitions were set a bit higher. He picked up a cup of tea and glanced out the window of the Brunswick flat. At least the new division was finished, the one small element that might have possibly threatened his plans. He would have his devoted followers behind him with no one to interfere

No one to stand between him and his high hopes for the future.

Glory was just around the corner for him.

And the Fatherland.

The boulders began to rock beneath him. The ground gave way and only by holding onto the tree was Santar able to stay above the rocks and fridgid water below. But the vibrations rattled the ground so violently that the roots of his sanctuary came up from the ground.

Santar hit the jagged rocks some twenty feet below. He lay there stunned from the impact. A quick check of his limbs found nothing broken so he tried to sit back up as the cold water splashed over him. Another tremor and the remaining boulders found their mark pinning him down.

He shook the icy water from his head and looked up to see Alexander Waverly standing near the edge looking down at him, weapon drawn, aim true. A large wave crashed over Santar nearly filling his body with the salty seawater. His one hand reached upward.

"Alexander….Please….Help me…" he begged as he watched the other man.

Waverly stood looking down at his former partner. He felt tightness in his chest as he thought about the times Bartomal had betrayed him on missions to save his own hide. He thought about his father. Now dead at Santar's hand.

"Please Alexander…" Santar cried out almost in tears, the once arrogant man now reduced to begging.

He saw Waverly disappear from the edge of the drop. Bartomal Santar felt his body jerk as he cried like a child. He was alone. Left to die a long, slow and agonizing death as the waters broke over him once more. He begged the higher powers to forgive him for what he had done. He thought of all the people he had hurt along the way in his life, his family, his partners, the only woman who had ever cared about him.

"Got it?..."

He heard a voice shout from above.

Looking towards the sound he saw Alexander Waverly quickly repelling down the side of the drop about twenty yards away. The agent untied the ropes and they were hastily hauled back up as Willie Del Floria prepared to drop as well.

Once down both agents looked up as several more feet of coiled rope were tossed down to them. They made their way to the pathetic figure pinned under the boulders. Waves crashed over them as they looped rope around the top stones. Jumping back to the sandy shore they pulled with everything they had and the first boulder shifted enough.

Waverly jumped on the large stones and worked his arms under Santar's shoulders. He grabbed one of the smaller rocks and put it on the man's mouth.

"You're going to need this," Alex said.

Willie took a large branch from the tree and wedged it into the space between Santar and the boulder. As Alex let him go, Santar felt the intense pressure of the branch. He bit down on the rock nearly breaking it into pebbles.

Waverly grabbed the branch as Del Floria once more took the rope. The pain was intense as the pressure built. But with one hard effort the boulder fell away and Santar was free. Waverly could see that the man was badly hurt and quickly tried to block off the bleeding in Santar's side and thigh.

Both agents secured the makeshift bandages and managed to get Santar up between them. He jerked violently from the pain as they stumbled back to the ropes. Having secured the man, Waverly called up for them to haul him up.

The ropes dropped again and Alex shoved them to his partner helping get him tied in securely.

About fifty yards up the coastline another massive explosion shot rocks, trees and earth out into the water. The tremor rattled the entire island and an eerie low roar cut above the sound of the waves.

Willie and Alex looked down the shore and saw a massive wall of water and dirt heading straight for them at an alarming speed. Willie grabbed his partner around the shoulders and shouted for the men above to hurry. Alex grabbed his partner's arms and held on.

Smithe, Driscoll and three other men who had found the group pulled to get the agents above ground. The wall was moving faster and pulling more of the shoreline into it as it approached.

The two men crested the ledge. Two of the others grabbed Waverly and pulled him to safety just as the ledge disappeared.

Taking Willie Del Floria with it.

"Willie!" Alex shouted.

He grabbed the rope that was threatening to pull Smithe and Driscoll into the tumult. They all pulled against the pressure of the water. There was a loud snap and the rope gave way, throwing the three men to the ground.

Alex got to his feet and look at the raging current. Willie was gone. He had failed to save his partner, his best friend. He took off running, making a parallel line along the water and what was rapidly disappearing shore.

"Alexander come back," Smithe yelled throwing the rope to the ground.

By now several of the others had found the only refuge from the quickly disappearing land. The agents watched as Waverly disappeared from site. Dickering, Hendricks and the other trainers found the small group.

"This way," Hendricks shouted, waving them in the direction Alexander had gone.

"We contacted a fright vessel that was nearby…..They are on their way to help," Dickering said.

He looked at Bartomal Santar. Then he saw his other agents, bruised, burned, bloodied from their hunt for the fugitive. He quickly counted his men. Four missing. Alexander he knew was still alive, so three were actually not accounted for.

"Who is missing?" Dickering asked.

"Hasani, DeMonte…..Del Floria," Hendricks said looking at the Colonel.

Another violent tremor and the island shifted. There was an eerie cracking sound and part of the north end of the island disappeared into the cruel sea.

Somewhere off in the distance came a strange sound. One of the men pointed across the open water to the small cargo ship headed their way. Hendricks opened his own gear bag and took out a flare gun, firing a shot high into the air. The small ship responded with a loud blast.

Alexander was being thrown everywhere as the grounds shifted below his feet. But he was determined to find his partner. The young agent kept as close to the shoreline as possible scanning the sea and land for any signs of life. He thought aloud to himself asking for any help to find the missing agent alive.

"Willie!" he shouted as loud as he could.

No response.

"Willie….Can you hear me?"

No response.

Waverly heard the horn of the ship blow and saw the small rescue boats heading towards the island. He stopped and looked around once more, checking the bushes and rocks for any signs. He removed his own flare gun and fired to let them know he was alive.

It was only now that he was standing still that he felt the cold.

He felt the wet spray of the sea.

He felt something take hold of his ankle.

Alexander knelt down and pushed the heavy wet sand and snow back. Willie's hand still held tight to his boot. Waverly uncovered his friend who was none the worse for wear and a bit blue from the cold water.

"Trying to tie my boot laces together?" Waverly said with a smile.

Bill Del Floria made a weak smile to his partner and shook his head yes.

The men were all safely aboard the small ship. The crew was quick to give the men warm tea, blankets and dry clothes.

Everyone went to the infirmary for a complete check and those who had been injured were quickly tended to. Beldon was still unconscious; the burns to his face and head treated the best they could for now. Santar needed emergency surgery and although the methods were somewhat crude, his life was spared by the ship's doctor. Three agents were posted to his room, one inside and two outside the door.

Willie suffered from a mild case of hypothermia, but the warm compresses, blankets and hot tea were just the ticket for that. His color was coming back and he could finally talk without his teeth chattering. Alex made sure he was doing well before taking time to see to his own bruises.

Hasani and DeMonte had been found, both suffering from extreme hypothermia and delirium. After a few hours they managed to let their Chief know about the bodies they had found. The agents would take a long time to recover, but they would remain with the new division using their skills and tactical knowledge in other departments.

**The next day.**

**MI5 Headquarters.**

**London.**

Dickering, Hendricks and the other instructors were sitting around a large table. They acknowledged the young agent as he entered the room.

"Quite an unusual training course." Hendricks said smiling at him.

"Yes sir, quite," Alex said standing at attention.

The men at the table studied the young agent. They nodded to one another and a few wrote down their observations.

"Agent Waverly, we want to commend you on amazing abilities. You have been a champion for the new division since it was first hinted at. You have been unwavering in your training, recruitment practices and your abilities as a firearms teacher," Dickering said.

Alexander felt a knot form in his throat. They were going to drop the new division.

"Thank you Colonel Dickering sir."

"And therefore, we have decided unanimously to make you Chief Enforcement Agent of the new division. Your partner William Del Floria will be second in the Enforcement division. This is a tremendous responsibility but one we feel you have earned. Congratulations Agent Waverly."

Alex felt like he was going to explode. But outside he maintained the demeanor fitting his new appointment. He simply smiled.

"Thank you gentlemen…I will do my very best."

"Of that we're sure," Dickering said.

Hendricks stood up and walked over to the young man, handing him a thick black notebook.

"This is the new procedures and policies book. Study it. Make sure the men understand that this is in fact the Law of the new agency. It also contains a break-down of the various departments, department heads and the responsibilities of each department member, dress code, conduct code, etcetera. We have also implemented a new radio call system. Agents will be given a list of channel codes to use depending on the urgency of the call. In honor of our new Section one Chief, Colonel Dickering, the main operations radio call will be referred to simply as Channel D."

Alexander Waverly looked at his boss and smiled. The elder man made a modest shrug.

"And one more thing," Hendricks added, "We have also decided to accept your suggestions for the division moniker, both name and logo. Very ingenious. I understand it was a combined effort of yourself and your partner…."

"William Del Floria, sir."

Alex saw Dickering smile and give him a secretive wink of approval.

"Dismissed Agent Waverly," Hendricks said.

Alexander Waverly turned to leave but hesitated. He looked back at the table.

"Do you have any questions Alexander?" Dickering said, noticing a slight change in the young man's face.

"Well sir…..Something that has bothered me for the last 24 hours," Alex said, "Did anyone else think it was strange that a cargo ship just happened to be near the island…five hundred miles from any other ports or vessels?"

The men around the table looked at one another smiling. A few chuckled under their breath. Dickering stood up and walked over to him.

"That Agent Waverly is your first Affair," the elder man said giving him a pat on the back.

**Three weeks later….**

The museum was small and abandoned. The windows had long since been painted out. Once a haven for the arts its marbled hallways, majestic columns and maze of galleries had been left to ruin after the war. The paintings and sculptures were gone, the fountain and garden in its heart now dry and littered with brown decaying foliage.

The grand entryway was once bustling with people. The mahogany welcome desk, flanked by two large Corinthian styled pillars, stood empty, the grey marbled walls now dusty.

No one even noticed the building anymore.

Together the fifteen agents, six section Chiefs and the Operations Chief, head of the organization, stood proudly in the large marbled hallway. Suits, ties and bandages all spit and polished.

Brigadier General Davidson looked at the row of smartly dressed young men. He nodded to Colonel Dickering.

You could have heard a pin drop as Colonel Dickering stepped up to each man, receiving from each a simple sheet of paper. He looked at each paper carefully before putting it with the others. He made his way down the long line.

The last paper collected he motioned the men to follow.

In almost military fashion the men turned in single file and followed down the hall. They each felt a swell of pride as the filed into the main entry. Bill Del Floria saw the beautiful young girl behind the desk blush as they filed past. He smiled, shook his head and then gave Alexander a firm poke in the back with his hand. Only he heard his partners soft laughter.

The dark grey and off white marble floors, the majestic columns framing the doorway the room sparsely decorated with potted palms. There, etched carefully into the stone of the back wall, a large globe of the world, bands radiated from the top, symbolizing their commitment to serving all and just to the side the figure of an agent head up, body ready serve, his gun held steady at his side. And carved below the figures:

_United Network Command for Law and Enforcement._

They had made it happen.

Dickering looked at his tattered and bruised troops. They had given everything they had. Completed their training and proven their worth. His fingers pressed against the stack of papers on the table. Their signed and notarized Loyalty Oaths.

He smiled as he heard each individual voice repeat the sworn vow of the agency. Their hearts, bodies, minds were all set on a common goal. To protect the world no matter the cost. They would be forever bound as a group, to protect each other, their partners and above all, their Chief.

They were the elite.

The Champions of Justice.

The Men from U.N.C.L.E.


End file.
